ROAD BOOK, Sector 6, Table 1 - exit from the base of life, cross the main road and take the path towards the bridge over the river Marmore. Follow the road until Valmartin (1510 m) where the path leading to the hydroelectric plant. You reach the pasture Falegnon (1914 m) and go halfway up the valley until you reach the artificial barrier of Cignana. Climb up to the dam and the refuge of
Barmasse (2175 m). Water point. Continue on the dirt road and take the path that leads to the pasture Cortinaz Damon (2097 m). Continue gently downhill to the trail on the right that goes to the pasture Ersaz Dessous (2135 m) and Col d'Fenetre Ersaz (2293 m).
The pappatoria is even tastier when, in addition to appetite, there is also a good mood. The same can not be said of George, who face more than ever pulled. Foot pain must really haunt him, although he is certainly not the type to complain, in fact. If they were sawing off a finger with a bread knife, merely take note of it without blinking an eye ... However, it must be said that a little 'if you look, the trouble. We are here, life at the base, we have a certain number of physicians and nurses have decided to take a little 'break, why on earth do not you take a look? Yeah, it's true, there will be five minutes of waiting, this is a crisis that sends the poor man. I shake my head, disconsolate better go take a shower. I climb upstairs, checked at least twice the tags on the doors: "Showers women", with lots of doodles. It 's my. Dig a bit 'in my bag, which now has reached unspeakable chaos, what cable do I need to change me and m'infilo in the shower, the water jet adorably hot. I hear footsteps in the locker room, will be a colleague. I still enjoy the warmth of a moment, then I go out, as my mother has made me and Tor reduced: I encounter a great piece of Marcantonio shoulders with three cabinet doors and all the butchery in a beautiful display ... Smiled: "Sorry." And I, in a superhuman effort to divert your eyes from the lens on which they were inexorably to rest: "No problem." I dressed, carefully open the bag of dirty clothes, which I imagine to be radioactive at this time, threw in what I have, recompose your luggage and go back down. George is still there spinning like a top. We withdrew both in the local camp, for an hour of sleep: an auditorium transformed for the occasion in Dormitorium, dark, quiet, with lots of blankets. I sleep, as usual, on command, in a moment, I lose knowledge.
Again, you shall wake up George. By dint of insisting, apparently, I convinced him to consult the doctor has already done, and I purred. Well we just have to swallow a couple of cans of Red Bull and start over. Here I can not resist, I too want to go ... Two stages, long, hard long as you want, but two, only two. Greetings, sketch out in the yard, under a sun now a bit 'hazy. We hope that the weather held together a little '... George joins me and we follow the webbing to the main road, down a path that cuts the slope and we bowl on another road, beside a river. Cross the bridge and take a back a steep ramp, also paved the rays of afternoon sun, here where there blows a breath of wind, we do appreciate their intense heat. Valmartin: here comes off the path we must go now to return to the top: the stage ahead runs almost entirely over two thousand meters of altitude. It promises to be a long night, cold and oppressive. But this is no time to worry about it now. We set off on a nice climb, partly in the wood that goes along the rugged slope to the dark noise, continuous power station, the topped with a very steep section of trail, which leads us to the entrance to a valley wider , bright. At the head of the valley, a dam. We are approaching a good pace, cutting a low but lush vegetation. The wall of the dam, instead of being curved like the dams that I remember seeing so far, is straight, perpendicular to the water pressure. Just below the wall, there is a gatehouse, evidently inhabited. Disturbing cracks run through the concrete structure of the reservoir, we hope that takes at least until we passed ... We ride down there and we carry on the other side of the valley, where, with a couple of bends, we reach the shelter Barmasse. We are welcomed, even here, a group of volunteers at rest. These are, obviously, people who live there in the mountains, the accuracy with which we describe the path, and then by their faces. The man who ci porge il the ha un volto affascinante, la pelle bruciata dal sole, gli occhi di un profondo azzurro chiaro, belli come quelli della signora non più giovanissima che siede sulla panca. Con quegli occhi di ghiaccio, chissà che bella doveva essere da giovane. Lo è ancora adesso. Chiediamo notizie del meteo; ci dicono che potrebbe piovere forse nella notte, ma si tratterà di piogge sparse. L'importante è che non si spargano su di noi... Il Cervino, ormai, non si vede più, forse perché nascosto dalle altre pareti o dalle nubi. Ma abbiamo intorno a noi una corona di cime una più bella dell'altra.
ROAD BOOK, Settore 6, Tavola 2 - Dalla Fenetre d’Ersaz si scende leggermente sulla right in the path that leads halfway Vareton of pasture (2266 m). Continue on the path to the pasture
Grand Raye (2352 m). Refreshments available. From here you climb to the plateau where the Lac du Tsan (2453 m) and follow the path that leads to the hill Fenetre du Tsan (2738 m). From the hill the path descends steeply and some ruins just before he began a long diagonal crossing to the right until you reach the plateau where there is the Reboulaz camp (2585 m), near the magnificent Lake Luseney. Water points.
off again down slightly, with a stable bell'alpeggio to a huge and futuristic. Margari and dogs peeking in the doorway. Trail, unpaved road, still path, climb a beautiful valley full of grass, flowers and streams. Behind us, the Monte Rosa in front of him to find when we turn the few curves that break up the monotony of the direction of travel. With the mood light, we chat non-stop, climb calmly, without exaggeration, without letting the excitement we get carried away, otherwise it's over. Bell'alpeggio overcome a town: small disappointment, we hoped that the noises were for us, perhaps accompanied by a glass of water ... But no. We continue along a slight slope to the head of the valley, I look around and I start to lose, so it's nice up here in the late afternoon light. Col de Fenêtre d'Ersaz, less than 2,300 m. The view extends over a wide valley of pastures, dotted with pastures and marked by numerous dirt roads that connect them. The sunlight still be with us for a while, though, beyond a short descent, we continue to chase it up. The shadows are getting longer, the houses are dark spots that soon to confuse him with the grass. We go up a dirt road, while the first peep chills on the skin, reaching a bell'alpeggio. Grand Raye, elevation 2,500, approximately. Here, volunteers and Margarita together are doing their utmost to offer all possible, before a rich set table. Known on the wooden door the poster announcing the event "open Pastures," with guided tours a queste belle strutture; il margaro, a cui faccio i complimenti per l'alpeggio, mi apre la porta della stalla: incredibile, di fuori solo pietra e lose, dentro invece c'è una struttura avveniristica, enorme, posto per ben centoventi mucche. Che adesso, però, sono già tornate più giù, a valle. Per il calendario, non è ancora autunno, ma per madre natura lo è già.
Mentre sgranocchiamo, sentiamo avvicinarsi il motore di un elicottero. Non facciamo in tempo a voltarci, che già lo vediamo risalire rapidissimo la valle: sta arrivando proprio qui... E' l'elicottero del soccorso, assegnato alla corsa; passa sopra l'alpeggio, descrive un semicerchio, si ferma in sospensione sul prato lì next, then down. I admire his mouth open, oblivious to the cold of the evening, it stops here, the skin begins to creep. The time to load an athlete and go, rise again, and again a wide curve, fast. These pilots are real phenomena ... Heroes and, if necessary. Rescue the boy, he explains, has probably broken a tendon and had a swollen ankle so abnormal and could no longer walk past in the race. She wept: and I can not believe it, I can understand ... Seeing the collapse of the dream of who knows how many miles of training and effort, and who knows how many moments of forgetfulness, in the evening, just before going to sleep, now that there are seventy kilometers arrival, must be tremendous.
We welcome and continue the walk, in the evening light. We can guess the hill, up above and slightly to the left, at least, that's the way, judging from the colorful ants still glimpsed. A short stretch of flat trail, then climb the slope with steep switchbacks. We gain altitude in a small space and end up on a plane: here the flags have disappeared ... We follow a trace of wavering path, strewn like the grass all around, from the remains of cows. And 'George to discover the mystery: note here and there, chewed and torn white sticks, bits of torn flags. The cattle have eaten the signs! Damn, I hope it touches them at least one strong stomach ache ... Fortunately, the signals of the High Street No 1 are clear and well defined in most, apparently, the roof of the cow does not like the reflective material of the flag, which is on land, more or less in the vicinity of the place where he had been set.
Now in darkness, we proceed in the light of the front and crossed eyes, round, reflective, herds of grazing: curious that they are still here, and over two thousand five hundred meters, at night, in September! Fortunately, this night promises to be not very cold, indeed.
With our lights, our way to those who follow us. We reach the hill under a starry sky beautifully and look out on a sea that seems oil, jet black and impenetrable. Fenetre du Tsan, almost 2,800 m above sea level. The first part of the descent is impressive and dangerous, steep, sandy and stony ground up, offers very little security to the support of the foot. Then, gradient fades, we proceed along a narrow path, but easier. The darkness is thick, heavy. Luckily, soon we see before us a light that, for once, it seems very close and it is. E 'bivouac Reboulaz: c'infiliamo warm in the tiny, already crowded with competitors and volunteers for a cup of hot tea and a moment of calm. A small building but provided everything from stove to stove in the room for the night. But the intention is proseguire ancora fino al prossimo rifugio; è notte, vero, ma in realtà non è tardi come sembra. Il guaio è che, a settembre, le ore senza luce sono davvero tante.
ROAD BOOK, Settore 6, Tavola 3 - Dal bivacco Reboulaz il sentiero attraversa il torrente ed inizia a salire e dopo un ripido pendio di pietraia e sfasciumi, raggiunge il Col Terray (2775 m), dal qual si scende a tornanti un pendio piuttosto ripido. Si prosegue per un lungo tratto in mezza costa, con alcuni saliscendi, fino a salire su una costiera rocciosa erbosa. Dopo aver percorso in discesa un breve ripido pendio, il tracciato piega sulla destra passando sotto le bastionate rocciose e superando alcuni canali, sino a giungere su un pianoro lawn. You cross the creek to the left, past a small hill until you reach the Cuney Refuge (2652 m), near the Notre Dame des Neiges Santurario. Refreshments available.
We leave the camp, between the warm greetings of the volunteers. We meet to throw a black sea that is below us, above all around: for a moment, I am assailed by fear. No, where are we going, why? There is heat, no light here, because we have to meet the darkness? I do not want ... By Gian, courage. You are not alone, there is George, and maybe there are others like us, scattered who knows where. Walk, walk, walk more and more we seem to fall down to the bottom a nightmare. An endless stretch arm, to cut the side of a mountain that we see, but, to our left, slide down the grass, steep, and the roar of a torrent haunts us constantly. The trace of the path down steep, narrow, sometimes little more than one step between the wall and vacuum, seems to plunge us down into the blackest depths of a canyon, with the increasingly deafening roar of the water, as if by a moment another drag on. Before rising again, tears steep, dry, and then still proceed halfway. Few lights suspended in the black sea, property, who knows how far away from here, other lights, small, drawing a path behind us and ahead a noi. Siamo sfiniti nel corpo e nel morale. Possibile che il Rifugio, dall'ultimo bivacco, disti davvero solo quattro km e mezzo? Eppure ci sembra di aver marciato per ore ed ore. E non c'è traccia della nostra meta. Scrutiamo quello che ci sembra l'orizzonte, pesti di sonno, alla ricerca della nostra meta, ma niente. Un alone chiaro illumina le cime alla nostra destra, su, in alto: forse è lì che dobbiamo salire, azzarda Giorgio. No, secondo me non è possibile; lì è troppo alto, e quel chiarore è troppo intenso per essere una luce artificiale. Infatti, tanti e tanti passi oltre, scorgiamo la luna, sfumata tra le nubi. Una luce fredda, bianca, che tuttavia ci rincuora un po'. Oltrepassiamo un costone, un altro yet. A nightmare. The flags trail here, were placed with a dropper, is it true, the path is unique, it can not exactly wrong, as long as no intention to launch exploration in the steep slopes, however, have confirmation of your steps is essential when everything is already so difficult. Doubts, fear, cold winds that concern. 'll Never get anywhere? Not even the lights of the other competitors are comforting: we know that the 'sheep effect "may have misled everyone together ... I do not speak anymore, I kneaded the mouth, hands contracted in agony on the sticks. Even George is nervous every time he says, then silent for long. Resignation ...
La luce, questa volta in posizione credibile, dona nuova linfa alle nostre vene. Il rifugio... Finalmente. E pazienza se c'è ancora un po' da camminare, prima di arrivarci. La forza nelle gambe è già tornata; lo zaino sembra molto più leggero, adesso. Risaliamo il sentiero, il prato; ci avviciniamo al bell'edificio in pietra, accanto ad una chiesa che sembra quasi irreale, finta, quassù. La porta cigola e ci cede il passaggio in un locale stretto, già sovraffollato. Ci sono i volontari, alle prese con il computer per il rilevamento elettronico dei passaggi: pare che il collegamento ad Internet dia qualche grattacapo... A me pare già incredibile che, quassù, ad oltre 2.600 m di quota, un collegamento sia possibile, quando tanti paesi in pianura sono ancora all'età della pietra, tecnologicamente parlando. Cinque o sei compagni di sventura sono appollaiati sulle sedie, qualcuno accasciato con la testa sul tavolo. Mangiamo il solito boccone di tutto, dal formaggio al cioccolato. Siamo già d'accordo di fermarci un po' a riposare. Una porta c'introduce in un primo locale dormitorio, già pieno; lo attraversiamo e c'infiliamo nel secondo locale, dove troviamo quattro letti a castello avvicinati in modo da formare due enormi piazze, una inferiore ed una superiore. Sulle piazze, buttati alla rinfusa, corpi addormentati. Un odore acre, stantio ci ammorba le narici: certo noi non siamo profumati, ma qui davvero si soffoca... Il puzzo infesta tutto, air to the blanket, under which those same c'infiliamo to sleep. Other lots that sheet, we throw ourselves on those same beds, or not quite fragrant lily of the valley of pine, it is not the time to make the squeamish. After all, who has rested here, like us, has already run at least 256 km. So, to be healthy for strength ... Otherwise would not have survived.
Sleep is disturbed by the constant comings and goings, the thuds of people walking in the dark and hitting your shins against doors and corners, now insensitive to any pain. But most of all from the cold, a cold shiver that seizes the bones, although the effect stable. I lie back to back with an unknown, as Russian if he was cutting down a redwood forest, lucky man. Even George is awake. We try to rest a while ', approaching and meditating well under the blanket to retain heat, but there is little, if clothing in contact with the skin moist. Eventually, we get up out of desperation. Even a quick passage to the supper table, a bathroom stop at the refuge, almost clean, beautiful teeth and washed away, even out into the night in the biting cold. Farewell Cuney Refuge. We face another long march, again halfway up, up and down, more and share more than 2,500, with headache and sleep to keep us constant company. There is natural to think, with a smile on the state in which we reduced: bestial I would say, is the right word. Sweaty, dirty, devoted to the most varied forms, so to speak, of corporal expression, without any trace of modesty. Instinctive, here it is: a language and blush of shame to do the most rude dockers ... I have to laugh: patience for myself, I'm already pretty "patelavàche," to use a very effective expression of the Piedmont, even in everyday life, but my pops, a worthy descendant of a noble family, has an almost religious view of etiquette. But not here, not anymore. If only I had a tape recorder, the switch when the poor fellow, with toenails already torn, she stumbles in the misfortune of a kick to a stone ...
ROAD BOOK, Sector 6, Table 4 - From the refuge Cuney Chaleby climb up the Col (2653 m). The trail then descends the slope to a valley and then climb steeply again and with a run halfway, reached the bivouac Rosaire-Clermont (2700 m). Water point. It continues to climb up the Col de Vessonaz (2793 m). The descent has a first steep section, after which it reaches the pasture Damon
Arp (2206 m). Continue until you reach a rocky valley to the pasture Arp Vieille (1944 m). The trail enters the forest and goes down to a clearing. You reach the bridge over the river Betenda Buthier and reach China (1456 m). Refreshments available.
La nostra lunga marcia sotto le stelle, dopo la leggera risalita al Col Chaleby, ci concede un'altra pausa, questa volta più breve, al Bivacco Rosaire – Clermont. Una minuscola casetta in pietra, con dentro una minuscola anticamera ed un minuscolo locale occupato quasi per intero dal tavolo. Due volontari, ancora attivi ed entusiasti, ci coccolano con caffé caldo e biscotti, senza lesinarci i complimenti. Ma io ho fretta di ripartire, ora che so che l'interminabile tratto in saliscendi, almeno sulla carta, è alle spalle, e che finalmente si riprende a salire. Con il sentiero, riprende quota anche il mio entusiasmo. Il sentiero taglia ripido il prato; la luce del rifugio, alle nostre spalle, ci accompagna per un po', fino a sfumare nella notte. Il Col de Vessonaz è appena sotto i 2.800 m di quota; ci attende ora una lunga discesa, che ci regalerà però finalmente i primi raggi di sole. Il primo tratto di discesa è ripido e gelido; le stelle spariscono una ad una. Il cielo prende un po' di chiarore; il sonno si fa sentire, pesante, a tradimento, proprio in questi momenti. Scendiamo a tratti su impegnative pietraie; tocchiamo due alpeggi, a quota 2.000 circa e poco più in basso; c'infiliamo nel bosco, con i muscoli che strillano per il freddo e la pendenza a cui non erano più abituati. Il rumore del fiume, a fondovalle, c'illude a lungo, prima di concederci il sollievo di raggiungere il ponte che attraversa l'impetuosa corrente. Solo qui, a 1.400 m di quota about, we find the courage to stand up clothes for the night, taking advantage of a wooden bench on which to lean. Another day, and then there will be another night ... The latest. Maybe. Quick consultation of the road book, then again, a slightly uphill, over the bridge, leads us to the village of China. A refreshment bar set up in a garage: the menu is always the same, more like a sponge cake, very welcome. The usual supply: now, the gasoline would corpaccione continuously; anything we throw away is burned down, destroyed instantly. Hunger is a constant companion, at least for me. And for George: he makes tough, the ascetic, but underneath the jaws in motion just like me ...
ROAD BOOK, Settore 6, Tavola 5 - Attraversato l’abitato, si sale fino all’alpeggio di Eclevey (1573 m). Si attraversa il torrente e, entrati nel bosco, si inizia a salire fino all’alpeggio di Suchéaz e Brison l’Arp (2195 m). Punto acqua. Con una diagonale in mezza costa, si risale il ripido pendio che conduce al Col Brison (248 m). Da qui un primo tratto di discesa molto ripido a tornanti, fino ad un’area pianeggiante, dove inizia una lunga diagonale in mezza costa che, dopo l’attraversamento di alcuni canali, porta all’alpeggio di Berrio Damon (1932 m). Punto acqua. Con una strada sterrata si scende fino l’abitato di Ollomont (1385 m). Si continues towards the village of Rey to the gym. Sixth base life.
For some reason, I am convinced that, from now until the top, there are fifteen hundred feet in altitude. In fact they are "only" a thousand ... What a joy to find out! Trotta in a good mood, because only those thousand meters longer separate us from the basic life Ollomont. We go up a forest trail, steeper than what is envisaged; bends that make their way through the logs, beams of sun that barely slipped in among the trunks of pine trees. We walk at a good pace, as always, or almost, are before me, to measure the step up, slower than what I would like.
A colleague at a short distance before us, a blond man Marcantonio, probabilmente tedesco o qualcosa del genere. Avanza a fatica, però: si vede, che il passo è pesante. Ad onor del vero, non è il passo il primo particolare che mi salta agli occhi: è il pantalone scuro attillatissimo, o meglio, l'armonia del contenuto... Esprimo le mie illuminate considerazioni filosofiche al buon Giorgio, che dal canto suo si domanda quali siano i caratteri che un deretano maschile deve presentare per apparire interessante agli occhi di una fanciulla. Boh, non saprei, è una questione di proporzioni; voi maschietti vi fissate sui particolari; noi del gentil sesso, almeno, parlo per me, apprezziamo piuttosto l'insieme. Questo qui davanti, c'è da dire, è un gran bell'insieme...
L'armadio all'improvviso cede il passo, s'accascia a sedere su un tronco tagliato. Un po' perché è un gran bell'uomo, un po' per solidarietà di atleta, gli passo accanto e lo esorto, nel mio solito inglese un po' maccheronico: "Is it OK? Do you need anything?". "No thanks, I'm tired...". "Then come with us, we're going very slowly". Detto, fatto: in un attimo, il biondo si rialza, novello Lazzaro in scarpe da trail, e si piazza in mezzo, tra me e Giorgio. Non so perché, ma un pensiero in quell'istante mi folgora la mente: ho come la sensazione che andrà a finir male... Lungi dall'essere davvero senza fiato, il simpatico tedesco, che poi in realtà è un austriaco, ha una gran voglia di chiacchierare. Attacchiamo a close dialogue in which we tell our sporting past, in particular, the fair has been clearly struck by the experience of Petite Trotte and I said life, death and miracles, although I do sometimes struggle to grasp and translate details. My English is not excellent, but its often just vulgar ... Every so often, I try to involve the smooth George, but I can not make miracles with my neuron already squeezed every last drop of its possibilities. Switching from one language to another, regardless of the road and connect the thoughts ...
Soon, I was afraid of that happening. My pops gets impatient, go ahead and, with the dignified gait of the best times Varenne, leaves. Here it is, the capricious brat: he suffered the indignity of being pushed aside for a moment, the center of attention ... And now I got crazy. Go, go, finch. I follow with the eyes, without changing the way I walked, a heavy silence falls between me and the Wardrobe Teutonic, which I imagine it will be made to turn the absurdity of the gesture. But you look at figures that I have to do. If I put my hands on him, left him, that's for sure ...
We leave the forest and head towards a pasture, with water point manned by two very nice children. George is there, but once again, I loiter and drink a little 'and the division of Coca-wheel, with a good supply of laughs. Offhand, the intention is to run to the fugitive riacchiappare: I try, but the damned really taken off. Gian calm, better not do crap. If the dodger has decided to play the race and breaking his leg on a whim, his problems are, but you must not follow him, the only thing that matters now is to Courmayeur. You have to get down there, full stop. Quiet, slow and measured. But it is a promise: if George dares even to whispers that he is tired, or that wrong somewhere, or want to stop, by the end, I swear that I leave there, I would never leave him like a dog Highway, and not just because they say it is forbidden to suppress. I already have done so when lamentava per la quota, la stanchezza, il sonno: se davvero fosse provato, non filerebbe su come un 4x4...
Le pale dell'elicottero spazzano via i miei pensieri cupi. L'agile velivolo raggiunge prima il punto di ristoro, giù sotto, poi risale e si affianca al sentiero, proprio dove stiamo camminando; a turno, un operatore scatta fotografie, tenendo le gambe penzoloni fuori dalla cabina. Tremo per lui... Il rumore dei motori è assordante. Dietro di me, a poca distanza, sale il biondo, che evidentemente s'è ripreso. Il sentiero è ripido e culmina con una serie di tornantini secchi, uno sull'altro, brevissimi e nervosi, fino alla vetta del colle. Col Brison. Giorgio è lì: l'ho già visto da un po', it protruded from the top; because I knew that I would have angered even more, not even an infinitesimal I increased my pace. Top of the hill pretending nonchalance, his voice falls to the severity of the tone of Christ Brescello, famous in the film Don Camillo: "Giancarlo ...". Ale, that's it. Mo 'I will fix it ... "Yes, tell me," replied derisively, as I begin the descent. "When I was an assistant in the studio, with customers in the Piedmont but did not speak Italian, because she could understand." Ah, there, this would be the reason for the flight, I committed the unforgivable sin of plotting with the enemy tongue Ostrogoths in ... Furthermore, an enemy that, according to the imaginative thesis of my pops, we had already exceeded more than once, so do not deserve any help. Yeah, right: you think I should finish it there on the spot, maybe sticking a stick in the back. When too much is too much, I lose the brackets too: "This is the last time you tolerate such a scene - scream - otherwise every man for himself and God for all." And we still need me, after two hundred and eighty-odd miles, I also put in a translator simultaneously, maybe Italian - Anglo - Piedmont to accept ... I'm not Mandrake! "Is it possible that you are still convinced that, whatever we do, is a planned and directed his rudeness to you? Look no you're not alone in the world! "he continues." And then, this is a race, not a war, I'm glad when someone else gives me a hand and help me overcome a crisis ... If I can be of help to a colleague, it seems obvious that we try. "And finally, to round off:" This behavior would not be pleased by a boy ... Imagine one of your age. "Well, maybe I exaggerated in a manner and tone, and yes I know how much weight have for George, the words, but I get, if anything, the effect of silencing my stormy appears. And also to silence myself. The descent, after an initial mild stroke, which, thanks to the outburst, it cost me too much of some retort, softens, crossing halfway up the lawn, while the valley widens. I lock myself in a sad and stubborn silence, a mixture of disbelief and disappointment, and even a bit 'of remorse, George tries, further down, to renew a speech, but I do not go more than monosyllables. It 's true, characters are unable to keep the muzzle, but it irritates me to think that a bad episode so absurd and should already be cleared pretending anything. I would still, I, of things to say ...
a pasture, a beautiful tender puppy, something like a German Shepherd, who plays on the back of a big dog white, inert, placid: is this enough to sweep away all the clouds on my horizon. I rush on cotton of hair, very shy but with a great desire to play, it's so beautiful that it would put me in my backpack and take it away ... A glass of Coke, a few words with the margaritas. One of them, perhaps judging from the Albanian pronunciation of his broken Italian, he invited me to come back, I'll get the dog yet. We welcome, we continue the descent on a dirt road. It 'great to see, in the mountains, with pastors, two dogs so well kept, fed, clean and not even related. A scene unfortunately rare, almost unique.
trotted towards the valley floor a little later, we find two friends to welcome us, Michael, who we had already picked up before the Donnas, and Gabriel. Thus, the last mile before the town di Ollomont scorre via in compagnia. Michele, poi, è un pozzo di storie da raccontare, con le sue esperienze alpinistiche persino sugli Ottomila. D'improvviso, comincia a piovere: non m'ero nemmeno accorta che il cielo fosse velato... Le prime case dell'abitato, poi via lungo la strada centrale. La struttura a noi destinata è in frazione Rey: troviamo ad attenderci una folla di corridori, familiari, semplici tifosi, insieme ai volontari. Pappa e, se possibile, doccia.
Dislivello positivo cumulato 19.927 m; km cumulati 283 .
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